


Icarus

by BendyDick



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Character Study, Just a drabble, written from Neil's Perspective
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-12
Updated: 2018-02-12
Packaged: 2019-03-17 02:08:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13649226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BendyDick/pseuds/BendyDick
Summary: You’ve stayed alive because you’ve always known when to run.You’ve lasted this long with a number on your head because you fight like something feral backed into a corner.This, this thing you are feeling, this is abnormal. It is soft and warm when you already know that the world is cruel.





	Icarus

You’ve stayed alive because you’ve always known when to run.   
You’ve lasted this long with a number on your head because you fight like something feral backed into a corner.   
This, this thing you are feeling, this is abnormal. It is soft and warm when you already know that the world is cruel. These people that call you friend and teammate, that think they know you when all you’ve shown them are shadows of previous shells, somehow they have made themselves important to you. They’ve become imbedded the way cigarette smoke and the weight of a blade can never leave your memory.   
It’s not what you wanted. You’d stop it if you could. Stop them from fishing out those small pieces of you from the black hole you so carefully crafted… If only you knew how.   
It shouldn’t have come to this.   
You’ve always known better than to let people start to see you. Not the shell. Not a performance but you.   
A childhood of never visiting the same place twice. A life of taking new routes to hideouts. Always looking back to check for tails. Hairs on the back of your neck always on end.   
Fists and threats taught you to be careful.   
But they smile when you smile. They stand too close when you are facing the fire. They call this place home and give you the key. They watch you the way you watch them. They take the time to find those missing pieces but they don’t pry. They are kind when you know the world is cruel.   
You expected flinches when they saw your snarl. A glimpse at the feral thing hidden, waiting, prowling. You wanted, perhaps hoped, that they’d back off. That they’d see their mistake.   
You were never meant to live to heal your wounds. Your gravestone had been carved they day of your inception. The six-foot hole dug with every step you took away from that garage.   
Icarus.   
Wings of wax.   
You’d been told to be careful. Be wary of the sun. You knew better but…   
But they wait patiently for an inch and they don’t try to take the mile. You lose bits: a game, a secret, your back. Perhaps you could stop this. Perhaps there’s still time. Perhaps though, you don’t want to.   
You’d say sorry if you’d ever learned how.


End file.
